Lift Me Up
by InterNutter
Summary: AU seen in _Till There Was You_ [TTWY] What if Kurt hadn't got away from the circus before they put him in a freakshow? Complete Fic!


Disclaimer: XME is owned by Warner Brothers and a bunch of other people  
in a nice legal tangle they can keep to themselves, than you very much.  
This fanfic is mine, containing twisted ideas that I'm sure no-one else  
would want; but please don't steal anyway.  
  
Archiving: email cat@devil.com and ask nice :) I do like to know where  
these things wind up :)  
  
Summary: What if Kurt *hadn't* got away from the circus before they put  
him in the freakshow?  
  
Coding info: Since fanfic is wont to turn up on web pages, I've  
deliberately avoided anything to do with greater-than or less-than  
signs, because they tend to screw up HTML something chronic. Hence;  
asterisks (*) denote emphasis, underscores (_) thoughts or italics,  
curly brackets ({}) sound effects and square brackets ([]) foreign  
languages. I refuse point blank to codify accents, as it winds up  
reading like lousy spelling :) I have enough trouble with that as it is.  
  
From the Author: Sometimes, I just get fascinated with Alternate  
Universes, and mess about with them. Welcome, then, to book one in the  
Crisis of Infinite Kurts ;) [joke] Based heavily on the alternate  
Universes seen in my fanfic, _'Till There Was You_. This is nearly the  
coldest one, but relax, it has a happy ending :)  
  
Lift Me Up  
InterNutter  
  
His name was Kurt Wagner. He was not the Thing From The Nether Pit.  
That much was all he could remember sometimes, and that was almost a  
mercy.  
There were other times, when he remembered the world outside of the  
cage bars. He could remember kind parents, and death-defying fun on the  
high-wire and the flying trapeze. He could remember when he got clean  
clothes more than once a year, and he was fed hot food. In short, he  
could remember Germany.  
He hated America. America was the place where things went from bad to  
worse, and then he went to Hell.  
He had respite when the circus moved. They gave him clean straw to lie  
on when they were in a new town, and his handler sometimes let him out  
on a leash. Only sometimes, when he could remember that he wasn't  
supposed to walk upright any more.  
The cage fixed that particular problem. It wasn't tall enough for him  
to walk about on two feet. And the gawkers fixed the problem with him  
attempting to huddle in the exact centre of his cage.   
They threw rocks at him, when they ran out of the little bags of  
marbles provided by the management.  
He learned to pace on all fours, to lash his tail and beg for hot-dog  
remnants and be cute.  
Speaking was forbidden.  
He'd murmured, "Help me," to someone once, and the management hadn't  
fed him for a week.  
He could, should he choose to do so, escape his cage, the circus, and  
the management with one thought. The problem was that this was Hell.  
There was nowhere to run to.  
Another mob of gawkers came by. He knew the drill so well that he  
would mutter their words under his breath.  
"OmyGod, what *is* it?"  
"It's a freak. That's the whole *point* of a freakshow."  
"*I* heard they dyed a monkey and gave it plastic surgery."  
"Why'd they give it *clothes*?"  
_Because I still have some dignity._  
"Aww, loo-ook... It wants my hotdog..."  
"I just spent three bucks on that."  
And so on.  
One would think that Satan would recognise his own in Hell.  
Then again, maybe he had.  
Kurt sighed as the last of the gawkers shuffled away, having seen  
their fill of him. He gripped the bars and stared into the distance,  
wishing that his parents hadn't died before they could leave the circus.  
His life, such as it was, would have been different if the accident  
hadn't happened. Maybe he wouldn't even have gone to Hell.  
"Oh. My. God..." somebody whispered.  
Showtime. Kurt mumbled under his breath. "What *is* it? I heard they  
shaved a monkey..." He turned, preparing to pace, only to discover a  
lost Angel.  
"You can *talk*?" She was a vision in pink and alabaster, with the  
bluest eyes he'd ever seen. "I hear you, you talked. Didn't you?"  
An Angel was his only hope. "Yes," he whispered. "They starve me if  
they find out I've talked to people. Please. Get me out of here. Take me  
with you."  
She closed her lovely eyes for a minute. "Sure. Take my hand. My  
name's Kitty. What's yours?"  
"I'm -" he took a moment to remember, reaching for her hand. "I'm  
Kurt. Kurt Wagner."  
She pulled gently at his hand, and the much-hated bars melted away. He  
went through them as if they were smoke.  
_Don't talk until you get outside,_ said a deep voice in his head. Odd  
that God should talk to him, now. _I'm doing all I can to keep you  
unnoticed._  
Stunned, Kurt could only walk - upright for the first time in years -  
hand in hand with his Angel.  
  
The fog that had descended on everyone's heads lifted the instant that  
the X-Van's door slammed shut. The extra figure in the van, the one  
attempting to hide behind Kitty, whimpered at the noise.  
"X-Men," announced Professor Xavier, "meet Kurt Wagner."  
"Skittish, ain't he?" said Rogue.  
"You'd be scared too, if they put you in a cage," Kitty defended her  
charge, petting his arm in an attempt to calm him. "Come on, Kurt, sit  
down here, beside me. I'll help you with your seatbelt. It's okay now.  
Everything is going to be okay."  
"What *happened* to him?" asked Evan.  
"What *didn't* happen to him," rumbled Logan. "I've seen that look  
before. Kid's been through Hell, and he hasn't woken up that he's out,  
yet."  
"A very apt metaphor, Logan," said Xavier.  
"Was I using one?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "News to me."  
"Is it just me," said Jean. "Or is it suddenly cold in here?"  
Kurt clung to Kitty all the way to the Institute.  
  
So God was in a wheelchair. He could deal with that. Battles with evil  
would come with their price, and injury was as good a price as any. The  
host of Angels was a bit of a surprise, coming as they did in all  
shapes, colours, sizes and ages. Some were obviously Angels of war, like  
Logan, with his metal talons, or Scott, with his eyes of power. Others  
were ambiguous, but he knew the name of his guardian Angel.  
Kitty.  
She was his assurance when he discovered that the gates of Heaven were  
an astonishingly short distance from the grounds of Hell. She was his  
rock to cling to when there was no sign of Saint Peter, nor Archangel  
Gabriel, nor of Jesus in God's larger-than-life house.  
She was also skittish and prone to blush about bathrooms; and fled the  
room on the slightest hint of him preparing to ablute. He could deal  
with that, too. It made sense that his guardian Angel was roughly his  
age, that way, the horrible things that had happened were just accidents  
on behalf of her newness at the job. Kurt could easily forgive her that.  
He could easily forgive her anything.  
He washed with water as hot as he could stand it, and soaked in the  
tub until the paroxysms of weeping hysteria went away.  
It'd be awful on his Angel if she saw him cry, especially now.  
Someone - Kurt was sure it wasn't Kitty - had replaced his circus rags  
with new clothes, just about his size. The pants even had the requisite  
hole for his tail. _Out with the old,_ he thought as he inspected the  
fabric, _and good riddance to it too._ He'd forgotten how good it felt  
to have clothes that were wholly new, and to wear them while being  
wholly clean. He was starting to actually *feel* like he was no longer  
an animal, like he was no longer in Hell. All the same, his legs shook  
and his arms trembled as he held himself upright by a death-grip on the  
sink.  
His whole body was threatening to shudder, and it wasn't because God  
had elected to save him from Hell. Kurt closed his eyes and tried to  
calm himself. The bars were still there, etched into the insides of his  
eyes by long familiarity with seeing them. Kurt may have been out of his  
cage, but he'd still managed to bring it with him.  
_Stand up straight,_ he told himself, doing so. The invisible bars  
were still there. _Hold your head up._ Again, he followed his own  
advice, and the bars were fainter. Kurt looked his reflection in the  
eye.  
"My name is Kurt Wagner," he said aloud. "I am not an animal. I never  
deserved to be in a cage. I am - a human being..." That much speech had  
drained his emotional reserves. Kurt closed his eyes once more,  
focussing on his breathing.  
The bars were gone.  
He was still shaking, albeit more subtly, but the bars were *gone*.  
So why was he so afraid to leave this little room?  
Perhaps it had to do with Hell. If you were truly evil, it was said,  
they let you see Heaven, before they tossed you into Hell for Eternity.  
_Nein, it can't be like that. God and his Angels were involved. God  
wouldn't be that cruel._ That decided, he opened the door for whatever  
came next.  
  
He was never a demon, Kitty decided. He was an Elf with bad press, and  
definitely cuter once he was clean. She smiled and stood when he  
emerged, and was now drinking in the sight of him. Kurt still had that  
haunted-hunted look about his golden eyes, but he no longer seemed to be  
afraid of everything any more. Whatever pep talk he'd given himself, in  
there, must have worked.  
"Hi there," Kitty offered her hand. "The Professor's waiting for you  
in the Library, Kurt. I'm just here to show you the way."  
"Is - that what you call Him? 'Professor'?"  
_D'oh! Like *duh*, Pryde. Logan and the Professor already *told* you  
he was seriously mixed up..._ Kitty kept her kind, gentle smile. "Sure,"  
she said, "in fact, I think that's part of what he wants to talk to you  
about. You see, things are kinda like, different from how you think they  
are?"  
Kurt blinked at her. Whether he was waiting for her to go on, or  
trying to understand what she said, Kitty couldn't tell.  
She felt compelled to talk, because Kurt was *listening*, but daren't  
expand on her brief warning. The Professor would know how to handle  
things the best.  
"Here we are," she opened the door for him. "If you want, you can go  
in alone..."  
Panicky, fast, "Nein."  
"Okay. Together then." Not that she really wanted to *watch* this  
part. It was bad enough hearing him cry in the bathroom. Watching his  
hopeful illusions being shattered was not going to be pretty. "It's  
going to be okay," she said, more to herself than to Kurt.  
"Ah, Kurt," said the Professor. "Feeling a little better?"  
"Ja. Dankeshoen."  
"There are some things I *must* tell you, Kurt. Things you may find  
difficult to accept. You - might want to sit down."  
Kitty, holding his hand, sat with him, and watched as he almost  
reverted to his former, animalistic huddle. He stopped himself, forcing  
his head up and his back straight, but the grip on her hand increased a  
little. Kitty squeezed back as if to say, _I'm here for you._  
"First things first, Kurt. This is not heaven, and you weren't in  
hell. You're very much alive, and have been so all the time. This is  
Earth, and I am just another human being. Like you."  
Kurt was shaking his head. "There's no-one like me."  
"In a strictly physical sense, yes, but in another sense, no. Everyone  
here at the institute is in posession of a unique power. Even you."  
"How can you know? You haven't seen -- it." Kurt raised his head,  
again, reminding himself that he didn't have to hang it. "I haven't  
tried to escape since - since... I can't remember..."  
"I know; but when a mutant - someone like us - is in control of their  
powers, Cerebro can track them. We've been trying to get to you for  
almost a year."  
"A year..." Kurt whispered. "I'd been - able as you say, to control it  
for - a while. I don't know what's wrong with my head... I can't  
remember."  
"You don't want to remember," corrected the Professor. "And  
considering the memories you *do* have actively haunting you, that isn't  
such a bad thing."  
"You can read my mind," he concluded. "That was how you spoke in my  
head. That was how you made everyone not see me. Couldn't you - *make*  
me remember - or not remember?"  
"I could, yes, but repressed memories are a problem in and of  
themselves. You'd have constant nightmares, inconvenient flashbacks, a  
risk of personality splits, and above all, you wouldn't be able to  
*heal*, in the way that you most need to heal. I'd do more harm than  
good."  
"You're sure I'm not halfway there already?"  
"Quite sure," the Professor said with a smile. "You had the strength  
to survive your ordeal, and I believe you have more than enough strength  
to recover from it. It will take time, as everything does, but we *are*  
all here for you. Any time you need us."  
"Likewise if you wanna like, lock yourself in your room or whatever,  
you can do that too. Whatever, you know? No pressure," Kitty burbled.  
Kurt stared at her. "I get a *room*? To myself?"  
"Like, *sure*. I mean, after like, spending a year or whatever with  
nothing but *bars*, wouldn't you *want* a room? Or a house?"  
"...unglaublich..." Kurt whispered, stilling his breathing once more.  
"I keep waiting for the catch. The trap. The laughter..."  
"Not here," Professor Xavier announced. "The Institute is a haven and  
a learning place for *all* mutants, Kurt. The only 'catch' is that, once  
you feel ready, you catch up on your schooling."  
"Mein herr, if you requested it, I'd walk across fire."  
  
There were welcoming smiles. Kurt had nearly forgotten what they'd  
looked like. It was still difficult to believe that it was all real. It  
was difficult to believe that it *wasn't* Heaven.  
Especially with the spread laid out on the table.  
So many delicious scents. He'd thought they just didn't happen in  
America. His mouth and stomach definitely remembered what they were, and  
Kurt had to stop himself from drooling.  
"I guess introductions can like, wait, right? I guess it's been a  
while," said Kitty. She was still holding his hand, and it felt all the  
nicer, somehow, for her being a real girl and not an Angel. "Like, pick  
a plate. Where do you want to start?"  
"*Start*?" Kurt blurted. "I don't -- I --"  
"Hey, it's okay. Just take it easy. Think freedom of choice, okay?"  
"Yeah, bro'," said the one called Evan. "It's a constitutional right."  
"Want me to sit with you?" Kitty offered.  
"But of course," Kurt said, automatically offering her a chair. Even a  
blue demon had to remember his manners.  
Kitty giggled and blushed as she sat.  
"I thought people didn't *do* that any more..." muttered Scott.  
"It'd sure be nice if *some* people did that," hinted Jean.  
"Wht-TSH!" Evan made the sound of a whip cracking. "Wht-TSH!"  
"That's enough out of you, Porcupine," rumbled Logan.  
"It's a simple question, Kurt," Kitty persisted. "What would you  
like?"  
Finally and at last, he was able to answer. "Everything."  
That one response silenced the entire table.  
"This is gonna be fun to watch," said Rogue.  
  
Forty-three servings later...  
The most amazing thing, when they discussed it later, was the simple  
fact that Kurt didn't make himself ill. At a close second was the  
steady, unbreakable pace at which he ate.  
"Please," Kurt said as he loaded up his next plateful, "don't let me  
keep you. I may be a while."  
"Like, we figured."  
His eyes actually glittered with humour. "Ah, I see. You stay for the  
spectacle, nein?" Kurt paused for a mouthful. "It certainly isn't for my  
sparkling conversation."  
In spite of herself, Kitty giggled.  
"Actually," said Evan, egged on by Kurt's comment. "We're wondering  
how long it'll be before you explode or something."  
"Mein fruend, I haven't even started on dessert," Kurt's laugh was shy  
and quiet. "Mama always said I had hollow legs - and mine are longer  
than usual."  
"Looks like we won't have to worry about leftovers for a while," said  
Ororo.  
"And how," added Jean.  
"Ten bucks says he won't make it to fifty platefuls," murmured Evan.  
"You're on," whispered Scott.  
  
Much later (and after Evan had to fork over ten bucks)...  
"Come on, Kurt. You can't sleep on the couch. Trust me, it's not the  
world's most comfortable couch for sleeping on."  
Kurt yawned for the umpty-umpth time, greatful for Kitty's support -  
both physically and emotionally. "The couch is closer," he managed. "And  
there aren't all these stairs and doors and hallways."  
"You'll get used to this place," Kitty told him. "Your room's this  
way."  
"You weren't joking with me. I - I get a whole room?"  
"Wait 'till you see the size of it. Like, this whole house doesn't  
know the meaning of the word 'understated'."  
She opened the door for him, but after he crossed the threshhold, he  
stopped cold.  
"See what I mean?" said Kitty. Then she, too, saw what the Professor  
had laid on. "Oh... kayyyy... So the four-poster is like, a little much,  
but I like, totally get the logic. Complete seclusion, any time you like  
it. There's - um - a basic wardrobe in the draws here. Nothing  
extravagant. I think the jammies are in the second drawer..." Kitty  
trailed off as she realised her audience was missing.  
Kurt was kneeling on the bed, feeling the material there, and testing  
the matress and pillow for softness.  
Kitty anticipated his next question. "Yes, it's yours. All yours.  
Like, insert maniacal laugh here."  
"Heh," said Kurt. "My fault for expecting too little."  
"Oh, we'll make sure you don't get spoiled," said Kitty. "Like, if you  
start to get an ego the size of Montana, we'll pop it back to size in no  
time."  
Kurt flipped back the covers, half-crawling into bed with an audible  
sigh. "Beats the heck out of straw..." His eyes drifted shut.  
"Okay, so jammies are 'out', tonight. You poor elf..." Kitty tucked  
him in, and thought his sleepy smile was cuter than his shy one. "Want  
me to close your curtains?"  
"Ja, danke. Except for this one. I want to see outside, if I wake up  
in the night."  
"Sure thing."  
"Kitty? Are - are you going to watch over me?"  
_What the--? Probably a lapse. It's all too big for him to handle at  
once._ "I can't, sorry. I've got school in the morning and it's already  
like, so late it's early."  
"'M sorry," he murmured. "I just feel - safe with you."  
"You're also safe *here*. No-one's going to hurt you at the  
Institute." Kitty brushed his hair away from his face. "You'll be okay.  
I promise."  
  
There was sun in his eyes, he was used to that. What he wasn't used to  
was the preternatural quiet, the smell of cotton instead of cotton  
candy, the fact that there were no bars making shadows across his still-  
closed eyes and that there were no small missiles bouncing off his  
anatomy.  
Kurt opened his eyes. It was all still there. *He* was still there. He  
got up and stretched the kinks out of his muscles, and warmed up further  
with a few slightly rusted contortionist tricks. He flipped a somersault  
from a standing start, just because he could.  
It was good to be alive.  
He exchanged his rumpled clothes for a fresh outfit, and still  
marvelled at the fact that he could do so. _Get used to it, Wagner. This  
is going to be normal soon._ Tonight, he'd make the effort to change  
into pyjamas. Just because he'd spent however many years in one set of  
clothes per year, didn't mean he had to keep the habit.  
Kurt's stomach made the deciding vote between breakfast and a shower,  
reminding him with a low growl that he'd better continue looking after  
it or else. At least here, he could look after himself without fear of  
reprisals. The last time he'd tried to wash himself - out of his  
suppurating water dish - they'd removed water from his cage altogether,  
and his keeper had to make sure he didn't dehydrate.  
All in the past now.  
He was his own keeper. At last. Kurt couldn't think of any greater  
freedom.  
Gone were the days of chemical humilliation in the early mornings,  
when they washed him with shampoo meant for animals. In cold water. And  
let him 'air dry' in his cage. Gone was the kibble. Gone was the abuse,  
the beatings and the management's ideas of 'discipline'.  
It was just him versus the rest of the world, and he decided when and  
how the matches happened. Or even *if* they happened.  
Kurt went seeking foodstuffs. That much, he could handle.  
  
Kitty found herself staring Institute-wards for the billionth time  
that day. Was Kurt still asleep? She'd peeked in on him just before  
school time, and he'd been fast into dreamland. The Professor had told  
her that Kurt would be prone to overdo things until he got used to the  
idea that he didn't have to.  
He was in good hands with the Professor, but that didn't stop her  
worrying about Kurt. Had he woken up, frightened and believing himself  
alone? Or was someone watching over him, giving him the security he'd  
needed from her touch?  
Once again, she found herself rubbing her fingers together,  
remembering his grip. Remembering the surprisingly soft feel of his fur  
as it brushed against her skin. Even when he was seriously unkempt,  
during his rescue, he hadn't felt icky. In comparison to the feel of  
his hand when he was clean - of smooth, new, warm velvet - he'd felt...  
just dusty.  
She imagined herself cuddling up against all that lovely fur.  
_Mmmmm... Down girl. He hardly knows which way is up, yet. Poor Kurt; he  
spends half his time convinced I'm an angel - *his* angel. Getting over  
that will have to mean --_ Kitty stopped herself with a sigh. She'd  
cross that bridge if it ever came to that. Right now, though, all she  
could do was accept whatever physical contact he'd accept, and tread  
softly.  
  
Ororo sighed at the wreckage she found. And she thought she'd cleaned  
up the breakfast mess. She snagged one empty cereal packet, two, then  
three. _No, this is new mess..._ A fourth box, and Ororo detected a  
pattern.  
Sugar Smacks, Count Chocula, Choco Chex, and Froot Loops. All sugar-  
coated carbohydrates and *all* empty. The next empty box in the  
scattered path, Honey Weets, only confirmed her suspicions. _Professor,_  
she thought at him. _It seems Kurt's woken up and had breakfast._ She  
absently tucked a vacant box of Coco Pops under her arm with the others  
and continued following the trail.  
Kurt was in the theatre, sprawled on the couch and fast asleep. One  
arm was buried in a box of Nutri Grain, while the other was threatening  
to drop the remote. He'd found the German Language Channel, and had  
apparently fallen asleep during the news.   
Odd that someone who looked so demonic would seem so angelic when  
asleep.  
Ororo tsked to herself at the sight. Later, when he actually regained  
a diurnal sleep cycle, she'd have to give him a small lecture about  
today. Not too big a lecture, of course. The poor lad was skittish  
enough as it was.  
He woke with a snort, and instantly curled into a defensive huddle  
with a panicked, "I'msorryIdidn'tmeanit!"  
Case in point...  
"Shhh..." Ororo soothed. "You're safe, remember? No-one's going to  
hurt you here."  
"I'm sorry," he uncurled a little. "For a moment I thought - I thought  
you were my trainer... the last time I was caught stealing food, they--"  
Kurt broke off with a whimper.  
At the risk of repeating herself, Ororo 'shh'ed him again, and offered  
the gentle comfort of a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, now. That  
sort of thing will never happen again. Never again."  
"Never again," he said. "Why are those two words so hard to accept?"  
"It takes time, Kurt. It all takes time."  
  
Kitty found him in the gym, and froze at the sight. "Whoah..." she  
whispered.  
Sure, intellectually, she *knew* he'd worked as a tumbler, and his  
tricks with chandaliers showed that he knew how to fly on the trapeze,  
but - this... this was like, something *else*.  
Kurt was a dervish of activity, pulling seemingly impossible moves at  
breakneck speed and laughing out loud. He was in his element, and he was  
awesome.  
He was also surprisingly well-built for such a skinny guy and, Kitty  
couldn't help staring, wearing only a pair of shorts that *really* lived  
up to their name.  
Jean, suddenly inside her peripheral vision, murmured, "Yow. Buns so  
tight he could bounce right up to the ceiling..."  
"*Jean*!" Kitty managed in a strangled whisper.  
"What?" she whispered back. "You *were* thinking exactly the same  
thing..."  
"Not in as many words," Kitty hissed. "And anyway, he's a person, not  
a piece of meat."  
"He's nearly naked," Jean persisted, "*and* he's showing off. That  
means we're allowed to look."  
"True," said Ororo, scaring the skin off of both of them. "But I think  
a little less drooling would be appropriate, don't you think?"  
It was all Kitty could do not to scream. "What is this," she demanded  
with hushed agitation, "a *convention*?"  
"Nearly," whispered Rogue. "The boys are on their way, though. Maybe we  
should clear the door." She, too ogled the blue flying elf. "Man... All  
that eatin' last week sure paid off, didn't it?"  
Kitty's inner fury was building up steam. She'd seen him *first*,  
damnit! She'd covertly watched his week-long transformation from near-  
skeletal and impoverished to muscular whip with a kind of covetous glee.  
Now that he was out in the open like this, she suddenly found that she  
didn't like sharing.  
Logan's only comment, when he joined the growing crowd on the gym  
floor, was a simple, "Oh, brother..."  
Evan was slightly more jealous. "I have *got* to start working out.  
*Yesterday*."  
All Scott had to say was, "Dude."  
Then Kurt decided to wind up his act. Swinging from one side of the  
room to the other, he somersaulted through a hoop with his eyes closed,  
and didn't even try for the opposite bar.  
Kitty screamed his name, her leaden legs refusing to take her to the  
end of his trajectory fast enough.  
Kurt was smiling.  
{BAMF!}  
He vanished in a puff of smoke, only to re-appear heading *upwards*  
from the gym mats, where he somersaulted again and landed in perfect  
Olympic style.  
"Ta-dah!" He announced.  
The rest of the X-Men, once they picked up their jaws, broke out in  
applause.  
Kurt would have bowed, except that Kitty was clinging to his chest.  
"Don't you *ever* scare me like that again!" She sobbed. "I thought  
you were gonna *kill* yourself!"  
Kurt was puffing and blowing like a steam engine, so he could only  
brush her hair. Eventually, when he recovered enough of his breath to  
talk, he said, "I'm sorry, Katzchen. I couldn't resist showing off. This  
is the best I've felt in - in a long time." His code phrase for a  
missing memory. "I just had to act it out. Nie weider, liebchen, I  
promise."  
"No. Don't," Kitty sniffed. "You deserve some fun. Just - warn me next  
time? None of us knew you could like, *do* that."  
"The Professor said that there's nothing wrong with little surprises,"  
Kurt defended. "Although my sense of scale is - how you say? A little  
out of whack?"  
"A *lot* out of whack," Kitty giggled, letting him go. "You look like  
you need a drink."  
"You look like you need a bath," he returned.  
Kitty looked down. Great. Covered in Elf-sweat and shed blue fur.  
Marvy. She mock-glared at him while he guzzled a whole bottle-full of  
water and towelled the worst off. "You ruined my shirt," she said,  
hardly bothering to hide her grin. She loved his smell and he knew it;  
it was all part of little-argument training.  
Big arguments were going to have to wait. Kurt could only handle  
little arguments on good days.  
"Me?" he said. "*You're* the one who decided to tackle me after a  
workout."  
"Tackle? That was a 'glomp', silly. You had me scared half to death."  
"Your fault for not being nosey."  
"*Your* fault for being such a secrecy nut." Both of them, by an  
unspoken agreement, avoided the 'other F-word' as they called it.  
"Am not."  
"Are too."  
"Not."  
"Too."  
"Ach, it's too hard arguing with you, liebchen. You make me laugh."  
"Me? You're the one who has to keep making me happy. It's like,  
sometimes I think my face is gonna totally crack."  
"Never."  
Kitty flopped down next to him, "You think you're up to the outside  
world, yet?"  
"With this face? You might like it, but others - you know..."  
"Well, the Prof. has a little something to help you with that..."  
"Does he now? Seems mine aren't the only secrets he keeps."  
Kitty shrugged. "He was sorta saving it until you were like,  
straightened out a bit. We can meet him in his study."  
"Want to go there express, mein Engel?"  
"Sure."  
{BAMF!}  
It was the third time that day that he'd left her breathless and with  
a pounding heart. And now that she was going to share the world with him  
- though not necessarily him with the world - Kitty was looking forward  
to many more repeats of the experience.  
She decided on the spot that she was going to enjoy it.  
  
~End~ 


End file.
